


MARVEL FANDOM UNFINISHED FIC DUMP

by sawtooths



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-graphic Rape Mention, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, hit me w/them comments fam, i love bruce, just a dump for my ideas, lemme know which ones i should finish asap, lots of bruce, lots of love for bruce honestly, lots of trans girl bruce, pero like it’s up to y’all, so much, so much stuff wtf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawtooths/pseuds/sawtooths
Summary: i’m gonna dump a bunch of shit here and i want y’all to tell me what i should finish or what you wanna see. fair warning, i’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of trans girl bruce and bruce in general so this thing is gonna be mostly bruce and trans girl bruce because these are two things the fandom is in desperate need of. hasn’t been proofread or beta’d either yikes lmao





	1. fics i have but haven’t finished

**FIC 1**

**title:** reconciliation 

 **author’s note** **:** loosely based on bruce’s state of mind after passing the hulk onto amadeus cho in the comics and how fucked he is when tony finds him in a casino in vegas (completely off his rocker. jumping off of water falls, getting into bar fights, driving way above the speed limit, fighting bears, gambling, and finally breaking down into tears while hugging tony). also based on the fact that bruce and tony were in oxford together but like fuck oxford so i made it MIT. feat. trans!bruce bcuz i said so and also real life situations that trans women often time find themselves in (sex work, drug addiction, violence). 

 **summary** : Tony Stark can barely remember the intricacies of his time at MIT, but when looking through some old binders from his time there he finds a note from an old roommate he remembers was one of the only minds brilliant enough to challenge him. The idea strikes him to attempt to recruit the genius to Stark Industries so he searches everywhere he can to find him. 

What he finds instead is a stripper/hooker with a coke addiction and a bleak outlook on life and a mean streak a mile wide. 

Tony really wishes he would’ve paid attention during Pretty Woman.

**873 words written so far:**

> Reconciliation.
> 
> That was the word they used, like that... broken part of Beverly's brain was some estranged family member who just needed a little sit down to talk through what may have drove them away in the first place.
> 
> Reconciliation.
> 
> That's the word they used, like that... broken part of Beverly was just some backslidden sinner dropping to their knees for the first time in a long time, praying to get back in the graces of the Lord despite his misgivings.
> 
> Reconciliation.
> 
> Bev hated that word. Hated it in such a primal way it made her chest hurt. It wasn't reconciliation it was like splicing an atom, like dousing cells in helicase and watching the DNA within them split in half, it was a destruction. She’d existed so long as two people she didn’t know how to be one person. She didn’t know what life was like without the blackouts and the need control herself and her actions for fear of dissociating. It was like a knife wound to the chest. Who was she if she wasn’t these two distinct personalities?
> 
> She couldn’t stand it.
> 
> So she packed up her dorm room in MIT, left a note on her dresser for her roommate (Tony Stark, who would’ve guessed), and left. Where? She didn’t know. How? That was another thing she didn’t know. But none of that mattered. If Beverly was anything, she was resourceful. She sold her books back to the campus bookstore and bought a plane ticket to Las Vegas and that was that.
> 
> She was planning on leaving and never looking back. It wouldn’t matter much since she wasn’t ever going to be Robert Bruce Banner again.
> 
> –
> 
> When Tony Stark comes back to an empty dorm room, he doesn’t question it. He knows his roommate is flighty at best, all jiggling knees and scrunched brow glares. The classes they do have together are sparse but competitive in a way that Tony can only dream of having in his other classes. He wishes his roommate was an engineering guy like Tony but from the few conversations they’ve had, he’s more of a theoretical and nuclear physics kinda guy.
> 
> What is strange however, is the note that is left on his desk and the fact that Bruce - as the boy insisted he be called because Robert was just too boring and Bobby sounded too much like the kids from his hometown in Ohio and Bob made him sound like a hillbilly - had left his side almost completely pristine which was completely uncommon for the boy. Sometimes he had his “fits” and they would almost always leave everything an unruly mess that never fully got cleaned up. But this, this was almost too clean, in Tony’s opinion. He was no Batman but it didn’t take a world class detective to figure out that something wasn’t quite right.
> 
> Picking up the note, Tony sat on Bruce’s bed given that his was cluttered with papers and blueprints, and began to read. It was short. And pretty disappointing. It read: “Leaving MIT. You might have the dorm to yourself. Or a new roommate if they find another 14 year old to bunk you with. Just a heads up.” Well that sucked. Bruce Banner happened to be the only person intellectual enough to challenge him and sometimes even beat him at his own game. Dude was brilliant and it was a shame that MIT was losing such a crazy talented brain. Tony gave a noncommittal shrug before folding up the note and tucking it away in his binder. Maybe the RA would ask for something to see where Bruce was and he could give them that. Who knew?
> 
> Well, at least he wasn’t too hurt since he didn’t know Robert Bruce Banner for long.

**10 YEARS LATER**

> Beverly Rose Banner was absolutely exhausted. She turned on the small stove in her nondescript studio apartment in Las Vegas and plopped a can of pork and beans into a pot to heat up. Beside it on the counter was a dime bag with only about a quarter gram of coke left in it which wouldn’t do. She’d have to go out and get some more after dinner. She couldn’t drink her homegrown hormones without food or else they wouldn’t absorb fully and she couldn’t have that, now could she?
> 
> Bev was a smart cookie. She modified and created her own estrogen hormone replacement in her apartment at fourteen and it worked damn good if she could say so herself. She was soft where she needed to be soft, hips round and perky handful tits that her clients loved to suck and bite at until her nipples were puffy and raw. Her curly hair flowed unruly down to her mid back and straightening it before her shifts at Lucky’s was a pain in the ass.
> 
> But she was fine. She was a hooker slash stripper with a coke addiction and a vice for doing dangerous, reckless shit but she was fine. She would live. All she needed was food, a nap, and then she could snort the last of her supply, go out and get some, and then get on the scene to recoup the money she needed for bills. Easy. 

——————————————————————

**FIC 2**

**title:** brand new

 **author’s note:** set in an AU of civil war where everyone got sent to the raft and hulk never went up into space during age of ultron. it has the level of bullshit that you’d expect from general ross, tony stark kinda realizing what it means to have general ross down your neck, and the realistic idea of bruce being understandably pissed at tony. because ross. idk what’s with y’all nowadays that y’all don’t know bruce wouldn’t be with tony’s side during this shit. like they even acknowledge it in the movie. rant aside it also features a rarepair and some fun shit like... exploring DID and personalities that stem from stress and trauma. swaggy.

 **summary** **:** Scott Lang knows full well he’d fucked up. He believed in what he stood behind but he knew he fucked up by getting caught. So far he knew he hated the Raft, he hated General Ross, he hated everyone associated with the man, he hated the monotony of the life he had now, and he hated how much he missed his family.

The monotony, however, is broken by the entrance of the Hulk into the Raft. 

Things were bound to get interesting.

**5,050 words written so far:**

> Everyone who opposed the Sokovia Accords is jailed, kept holed away until they were needed, collared and chipped like dogs. They're released to the world when they're required and then they're corralled back into the Raft, deep underneath the ocean, confined. See, the nice superheroes like Spider-Man and Iron Man and Vision got to roam freely, but the government held those who opposed them like prisoners as a reminder to the less restricted that there would be consequences should they decide to act up.
> 
> Scott hadn't seen Cassie in almost six months.
> 
> He was told that visitations would be allowed soon, as soon as they could secure the area enough for civilians, but Scott could call bullshit from miles away. He knew that it was just another punishment for not signing the stupid fucking Accords. The only solace he had was a picture of him and Cassie that Paxton had taken just after they'd managed to repair the gaping hole in the house caused by Cassie's Thomas the Tank Engine ripping through the structure. They were both grimy and Cassie's smile was so wide and all encompassing it squeezed her eyes shut and you could see that her bottom teeth were missing, matching the small nubs of her growing front teeth. He himself had a bit of a five o'clock shadow and his laugh lines crinkled at the edges of his eyes as he bent down, his hands on Cassie's shoulders.
> 
> His favorite part of the photo however were the two blurs that were Paxton and Maggie attempting to enter the frame after having a near spitting match about how to get the timer on the camera to work before realizing a split second too late they had missed the photo. Sure, they managed a complete take but Scott liked this one the best, it made him smile and it made him laugh and it brought him back to a time when things were easier.
> 
> His heart clenched in his chest, a familiar burn of tears in his eyes. The fact that he was in prison again, a prison he might not ever escape, made an immovable lump form in his throat. He fucked up so badly and he wasn't ever going to see his family again. He wasn't going to see Cassie or Maggie or even goddamned Paxton until General fucking Ross decided he'd been a good little pet long enough to reward him that.
> 
> He picked at a scab on his knuckle until it bled, pressing against the open cut and biting his lip to keep from hissing in pain. He hated this. He hated that he hated the Accords so much he was willing to sacrifice everything to keep them from coming to light. He hated that he lost and he hated that he hated himself for losing. All he wanted was just to be free and unregistered and unchecked, he wanted to be able to sit back and know that Cassie wouldn't be in danger like she was before ever again. If the world knew he was Ant-Man, how was he supposed to prevent that from happening again? The thought that people could've been targeting Cassie in that very moment made fear clench ugly and unyielding on his heart.
> 
> He stared at the empty cell across from his and sighed.
> 
> Right now, he really wished he would've heeded Hank Pym's word and stayed away from Tony Stark and his bullshit. But more importantly he wondered if he'd be staring at an empty cell across from him for the rest of his stay.
> 
> \--
> 
> After Ultron, Bruce dropped off the radar. He landed somewhere off the coast of Fiji and awoke on soft sands, his muscles more sore than he had ever remembered them being after Hulking out. He could hear the rumbles of the the Other Guy but it wasn't anything more than a low background noise, almost comfortable in its familiarity. It seemed as though they both liked this new place. If it came down to it, which Bruce suspected it had, this would be a nice, out of the way village to hideaway. It was more secluded than Calcutta, and more remote, too. It was the perfect location for a man like him to settle down.
> 
> He knew he was forming attachments, attachments that stemmed too close to love and too close to the government. He couldn't stick around. He couldn't risk hurting his teammates and he couldn't risk getting too complacent around the people who were only being thinly blocked from taking him and experimenting him by a group of people who thought Bruce was more than just the Hulk.
> 
> So he disappeared.
> 
> He didn't want to be found, so he didn't bother with technology. He didn't care for the television or the radio, preferring to tend to the locals, make a living comfortably, and practicing better ways to push the Hulk from within him. He came to appreciate the Other Guy in a weird sense, but he knew that as long as this fractured piece of his psyche existed, he'd be hunted. Hunted and caged and experimented on. He couldn't have that. So for as much as he was learning not to mind the Hulk so damned terribly, he knew that he and Bruce couldn't exist in the same body lest Bruce be captured.
> 
> You could only imagine, however, how shocked he was to see Tony Stark in the small village he'd come to call home over the past few months. They ran into each other on the sparsely populated beach, not too far from where Bruce had landed. Tony was dressed just as Tony normally dressed, even on a tropical island. His faded Black Sabbath shirt didn't have any long sleeve attached under it, however, so that was new. He recognized the cuffs around Tony's wrists as his compacted Iron Man suit. Looking at him now, he managed to school the surprise on his face.
> 
> "So, Tony, long time no see. What brings you here?" He asked, hoping his voice didn't waver too much.
> 
> "Nothing much, I was hoping that we could talk," Tony responded, unusually somber. Bruce could feel the Other Guy stirring impatiently at the tone. He shushed him mentally, hoping to calm him to some degree.
> 
> "Exactly what about?" He questioned warily, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. Tony didn't seem as aloof as he normally was. He was serious in a way his old faded metal band t-shirt didn't betray. Bruce could feel his pulse spiking and he started circularly breathing to regulate it.
> 
> Tony reached his hand out slowly and placed it on Bruce's shoulder, right in the junction where it met his neck, despite the violent flinch Bruce gave at the touch. He could see Tony's eyes shining with unshed tears and the Other Guy was practically screaming in his head. He knew a warning tone when he heard it but was given no time to respond as the cuff of Tony's wrist link snapped open and jabbed a syringe deep into the tendons of his neck.
> 
> The only thing he heard before his body hit the soft sand was Tony's soft sobbing, broken 'I'm sorry's tumbling from his lips like Sunday prayers.
> 
> He wondered if Tony was apologizing to him or God.
> 
> \--
> 
> A sharp tap on his cell snapped Scott awake. He shut his eyes tight against the fluorescents now lighting up every cell in the circle and yawned. He blinked a few times before looking at whoever had tapped on the glass of his cell. As per usual, it was some military grade government agent letting him know he had breakfast in his cell. The fact that the agent didn't move made it clear he had to finish quickly since he most likely had a mission to be briefed for. He was grateful he actually got to participate in missions of his own mind. He saw the states they kept Wanda and Bucky in and he thanked every god he believed in that that wasn't him.
> 
> He looked down at the floor of his cell and made a face at the congealed oatmeal and the just-shy-of-too-ripe banana. He was going to assume he had coffee and juice in the two cups sitting on his tray, but he never got his hopes up since according to whoever was in charge of feeding the captive supers, coffee was dirty water and juice was concentrated pith shavings. He brought the tray up to his lap and sighed.
> 
> "Oh, thank you so much for this G.I Joe. I always wondered what the scum that gathered on the bottom of the shower door tasted like and it nice to know the government was privy to that. And how did you know I like my bananas halfway to decomposition? I mean you all really pull out the stops for people like me who risk fucking everything to save the planet. I wonder if I'll get that day old ground beef from the General's mini fridge for lunch if I'm lucky," he quipped, unable to hold his tongue. The agent gave him a look, condescending and annoyed, that expressed that he thought of Scott as just an infuriating little - heh - ant that he couldn't smash under his boot. He was used to that.
> 
> He held his breath and consumed all of the disgusting breakfast with a grimace, followed by an ungodly indigestion burp that would've made the cut for a Pepto-Bismol commercial. From Sam's cell he heard a full on wretch and a ragged: "Jesus Christ, I'm just going to assume y'all are trying to kill us before we actually make it to the fucking mission. Shit, if I die of food poisoning when I fight goddamned super villains every day, I'm coming back to haunt y'all." He suppressed a full on laugh. He heard Clint guffaw disrespectfully and he smirked.
> 
> Then, he found himself having to cover his mouth with his hand when Clint responded to Sam's quip: "Nah, Sam, they're not out to kill us because if they do who else would do their dirty work for them? They know damn well Stark and his cronies aren't half the team we are. This is just punishment 'cause we're not fans of their little Accords." A chorus of laughter, bitter and stinging in its utter lack of respect, rose up from Sam and Steve's cells and Scott removed his hand to join in.
> 
> A sharp series of smacks on the metal between the cells slowed the laughter to a halt and the agent seemed frustrated with the group. Then a sadistic smirk played on his features.
> 
> "Since y'all like to get all smart, you can stick around for activation," he spoke, a happy lilt to his otherwise blood chilling words.
> 
> "You wouldn't," Steve growled. Scott could see the angry clench of his jaw, the veins of his forearms popping out as he clenched his fists. Bile rose in the back of Scott's throat.
> 
> The agent sauntered over to Steve with a saccharine smile on his stupid face. "Oh, but I would," he responded. Steve punched the glass separating the two of them with enough force to make it shake viciously. The agent laughed. Scott was fighting the urge to vomit. This wouldn't be the first time they made them watch an activation as punishment.
> 
> The agent pressed a code into his watch and an alarm sounded, the sealed doors to Wanda and Bucky's cells hissing open. Wanda was brought out, her eyes cloudy and dazed. Her knees wobbled where she was forced to stand, and when she caught eyes with the agent she whispered a broken "Pietro?" that sent a wave of pity through the room. He heard Clint choke off a sob to his left. She stood where she was placed, however, and looked around the room with wide, bewildered eyes. Scott could see her arms moving around to try and remove the straight jacket.
> 
> Bucky was another story altogether. They wheeled a vibranium table into his cell and strapped his limp and catatonic body onto the metal and tilted it until his body was at a forty-five degree angle before wheeling him out alongside Wanda. The agent flipped a switch on the backs of their jackets and their eyes cleared immediately, pupils dilating as they shook. Adrenaline, a could-be-deadly shot directly to their system to wake them from the drugs that flooded their systems. He could tell by the atmosphere in the room that this did nothing more than encompass them with a burning desire to break free of this shit-hole prison and turn their backs on the American government.
> 
> Scott tried so hard to avert his eyes but couldn't, watching the unfolding scene just as one would watch a train wreck. He didn't notice the tears slipping down his eyes until they tickled under his chin.
> 
> The agent held Wanda too close for anyone's comfort, his hands pressing her back into him in all the wrong places. "Shhh," he whispered as he stroked his disgusting hands along her body and Scott knew what was coming next.
> 
> He continued petting Wanda as he spoke a series of words in Sokovian. Scott watched as Steve's hands clenched in his hair and his shoulders shook. Bucky and Wanda slowly stilled in their restraints and the agent removed Wanda's straight jacket, his hands staying too long at her chest. Red energy already crackled at her fingertips and she stood stock still, staring straight ahead. Bucky was unstrapped from the table, divested of his own jacket, and stood just as still as Wanda, eyes unblinking, unfeeling.
> 
> "Good morning, soldiers, today we've got a mission. We will be meeting the rest of the team at rendezvous point Alpha. A hangnail of a HYDRA communications base has begun creating weaponry and gaining recruits. Their numbers are increasing in size and they have secured a tri-city area in the state of New Mexico. Your assignment is simple, neutralize the targets, destroy the weaponry, and demolish the base. Be quick, be efficient, be ruthless. Confirm?" The agent briefed and Scott wanted to pass out. So now killing people was on the list of "superhero duties."
> 
> Bucky and Wanda nodded curtly. "Confirm," they responded, their voices dead. They were ushered out of the room first before the agent pressed the button on his watch to release the rest of them. They all knew better than to try and attack the agent, since the first time they had tried, their collars shocked them so hard and powerful, Scott was left with electrical burns that scarred like a choker on the skin of his neck. They weren't about to try again.
> 
> \--
> 
> Approximately 10 hours after suiting up and meeting up with Tony and his merry band of assholes, the threat was neutralized, dead bodies littering the streets and carnage present in all three cities, if Scott could even call them that. They were so close together and small Scott would've called the area they covered an average city on its own. Still, he was tired and sore and his mind was rejecting the day's events like a bad transplant. He stared vacantly ahead when they boarded the quinjet heading back to the Raft and tried not to notice the blood and viscera on his Ant-Man uniform.
> 
> He also pointedly ignored the fact that Bucky's metal arm now looked more like copper and less like vibranium and that the skin of Wanda's neck and hands matched the pulsating red of her energy.
> 
> \--
> 
> When Scott was entered back into his cell after showering, he didn't expect to see someone in the cell across from his. The man appeared to be sleeping, his arms cocooned in an adamantium straight jacket, his body strapped to a tilted table much like Bucky's, his ankles secured to the bottom. He noticed a small opening in the straight jacket and poking from it was an IV line, the baggy attached to it looking a lot like they bought it from a bulk store and just attached the huge thing to a poor human person. He wondered what kind of threat dude posed if he was locked up so insanely.
> 
> When Steve and Clint ran up to the glass and said "Bruce," almost as if the name was being punched from their lungs, he put two and two together and figured that the man across from him was the Hulk. He understood the bindings now. Had his brain not been so numb and subdued he'd've expressed some emotion. But he couldn't. His mind felt floaty and far away as if he was watching everything that happened from the outside. Every move he made felt a beat too slow so he stopped moving altogether, opting to stare blankly at the scene unfolding before him.
> 
> He watched silently as Steve and Clint were dragged into their cells by a new agent, different than the last but oh so painfully the same. Steve looked like someone had punched him the gut over and over again, his face green and his eyes watery. Something in Scott told him that he probably felt like this was all his fault and Scott wanted so badly to reassure him that it wasn't. He stared as Steve's shoulders slumped, as if the weight upon them was too great to deal with anymore. Scott wondered if he'd go catatonic like Bucky and Wanda, broken and tired and accepting defeat belly up.
> 
> Scott wondered if they'd all go dead inside.
> 
> He fell asleep wondering if he'd have the will to wake up the next morning.
> 
> \--
> 
> In a refreshing - if not terrifying - change of pace, Scott woke up to guttural inhuman screaming and the clang of metal against the floor. He shot up, more awake and aware than he ever remembered being and looked across the way to Bruce's cell. His body twisted wickedly in his restraints and his eyes almost glowed they were so green. Scott knew that this wasn't Bruce, this was the Hulk. But something shone in those green eyes that didn't speak of anger but of fear. Someone needed to calm the beast down before it tore Bruce apart in its fear and rage so Scott cleared his throat loudly.
> 
> "Yo! Hulk! Buddy!" He called, attempting to get the Hulk's attention. He smirked triumphantly as Bruce's wildly shaking head whipped around to stare at him, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, eyes alight and fluorescent lights glaring off the glasses upon his face.
> 
> "Yeah, that's right, look at me. Hey, good. My name's Scott, and I know you're trapped up tight and probably drugged and scared out of your wits but you need to calm down. You're gonna hurt Bruce if you keep struggling like that," he explained, hoping the logic he used on Cassie when she refused to go to bed and began thrashing along the floor, screaming. He modified the wording just a bit, but he knew the eyes of a frightened child too well for his own liking. It felt weird to think of the Hulk as a child, but it made sense in the moment, so he ran with it, trying to calm his racing heart.
> 
> "Hurt... Bruce?" The Hulk's own gravely tone responded and Scott nodded slowly, trying not to shiver at the beast's voice. It seemed to shake and radiate across the atmosphere, as if it was too big to just leave Bruce's lips, instead opting to pour from his very being.
> 
> "Yeah, bud. All that kicking and screaming doesn't help Bruce at all, he's not big and strong like you, and throwing his body around like that could really hurt him," he reiterated his voice only barely shaking and Hulk's eyes narrowed, his jaw unclenching just a fraction. Scott felt stupidly accomplished, like his years of wondering if he was good with kids washing down the drain. If he could calm down the goddamned Hulk, he could calm down anyone. It was slightly euphoric, dizzying in a sense that made his head spin. It took him just a bit to realize that he was mainly happy because for the first time in months, Scott was actually feeling things.
> 
> "Bruce puny..." Hulk mused and Scott nodded once more, making a small approving hum in the back of his throat. He could do this. He could reason with the Hulk, he could get him to calm down.
> 
> "Bruce is very puny compared to you, bud, and I think he likes having all his bones intact, so you're welcome to stick around, but try not to thrash while you're strapped like that," Scott spoke and the Hulk looked befuddled, lips quirking and nose scrunching. Distantly, he heard Clint's shocked chuckle. Bemused and disbelieving and incredulous like he'd never heard of anyone trying to talk down the Hulk before and succeeding. He caught eyes with a completely befuddled Steve, shooting him a bright eyed smile. This was good. Talking down the Hulk was making the once downtrodden gang feel things.
> 
> "Hulk not try to smash. Hulk stay. Hulk protect Bruce," Hulk responded finally before turning his head to look at the ceiling, huffing angrily at the fact that he was restrained but making no move to send Bruce back. Scott relaxed marginally, flopping back in the cot of his cell. At least Bruce wasn't going to wake up quadriplegic because the Hulk snapped his neck trying to get out of adamantium bonds. He shut his eyes until a voice not his own spoke up.
> 
> "What are you protecting Bruce from?" Sam asked, and Scott scrunched his face up confusion, arms pillowed behind his head and his eyes still closed.
> 
> "Hulk not stupid. Hulk know bad things happen when Bruce get captured. Hulk won't let bad men hurt Bruce," he responded, not turning to look at Sam, eyes pointedly fixed on the ceiling. Scott suppressed a shudder.
> 
> "Has this happened before?" Sam questioned again and Hulk did nothing more than grunt in response. Apparently sensitive topics existed for enormous green rage monsters. Scott would have to keep that in mind. Sam hummed approvingly, before falling silent for a few beats.
> 
> "If you or Bruce ever want to talk about it, I'm sure we'll all be willing to listen," he spoke finally and Scott was slightly confused at the way Sam was speaking. He sounded like, shit, he sounded like a therapist. A lot like Scott's own therapist. Sam wasn't prying, demanding, or expecting answers from the Hulk or Bruce, just letting them know that there was someone who wouldn't mind being a listening ear.
> 
> "So, Sam, I'm assuming you're a therapist?" He heard Clint ask and laughed a bit about the fact that he was just prepping to ask that question.
> 
> "Yeah, he is. Can't tell you by how many times he's tried to psychoanalyze me," Steve replied with a funny little chuckle. Sam gave a mock gasp of shock.
> 
> "I'll have you know that I have never tried to psychoanalyze you. I have, however, tried navigating around that reckless little cat's cradle you call a brain," Sam quipped back and Scott let out a full on laugh.
> 
> "The great Captain America, reckless? I don't believe it," he said, mirthful and mocking. He was met with a chorus of laughter that made his heart feel light.
> 
> "Oh screw you, Scott," Steve laughed and Scott blew a childish raspberry in response. His eyes flicked over to Bruce's cell and he saw the Hulk scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. This didn't seem like a familiar thing for him, like he didn't know what to do with the presence of laughter surrounding him when he was so used to terrified screaming. He looked as though he'd never been surrounded by laughter in his life. Scott hoped the infectious mood would help.
> 
> "You know, it's 2016, you can say fuck, Cap, it ain't gonna kill ya," Clint spoke and the laughter around the group grew in volume. The situation wasn't even all that funny, but they were so desperate for a happy moment they clung to it like leeches, hoping to gorge themselves on the joy of just laughing until it was over.
> 
> "Excuse me, Clint, I have morals," Steve responded, barely getting it out past his giggles. Sam groaned loud and long, mirth tinging the underside of it. He prompted Steve to say fuck, soon followed by Clint and Scott. Scott could barely speak over the laughter in his throat.
> 
> "Come on, Cap, it'll make you feel better," he begged and finally, under the onslaught, Steve conceded, admitting defeat, prompting Clint, Sam, and Scott to cheer.
> 
> "Fine, alright, alright. Fuck you, Scott. Oh my God, you're right, that did feel good. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," he repeated, giddy with it. He stopped abruptly when a guttural chortle vibrated through the air. It was the Hulk. There was a funny little smile playing on Bruce's features, though his eyes remained glued to the ceiling. He continued to let out small little chuckles until he noticed the rest of the group had stopped, shell-shocked.
> 
> "Star Man said a bad word," he explained himself, as if he needed a justification for laughing, but his curt response made the group bust out laughing once more, abrupt and unexpected. Hulk slowly joined in again and they laughed until their stomachs hurt. After a good chunk of time, they settled down, breathy little sighs leaving their lips as they lay in their cots with beaming grins on their faces. Scott can't remember the last time he laughed so damn hard and it felt like a weight lifted off his chest. It felt like he knew that no matter what they could hope that happiness - no matter how momentary - still existed in this hell.
> 
> For the first time in months, Scott slept without nightmares.
> 
> \--
> 
> Bruce, squared away in some corner of his own mind, was acutely aware of what was happening around him. It was weird, as if he were witnessing everything underwater. He'd never been this aware when Hulk was in control. It was a blackout and a groggy, hangover style wake up with vague flashes of memory in between. But now, like this, restrained and drugged, he could see and hear, no matter how fuzzy the image was. He could only guess it was because his body was still his own, but he didn't want to weigh too much into the possibility that the Hulk would be able to take over him without transforming. He enjoyed being himself, he didn't want anyone else taking over his consciousness and his body and his voice and... No. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.
> 
> Through the soft haze he heard a tinny voice urge Hulk to calm down and he gave a small, disbelieving chuckle as Hulk obeyed. Whoever was speaking would get a standing ovation from Bruce the moment he was able to stand. Very few could say they were able to calm the Hulk, even less could say they calmed the Hulk long enough to live and tell. The fact that that was something normal made nausea bubble sickly in Bruce's stomach. He pressed it down and continued to observe.
> 
> For awhile Hulk's thoughts were silently contemplating, layering over his own like white noise. This was a bit more familiar for him, the conversation of thought layering just before his own like every time he was just on the verge of a switch into the Hulk, which was constantly. The anger that fueled the Hulk's coming also supplied Bruce with a constant connection to the unfortunate mental roommate. He was always thinking of destruction, ramming his fists through concrete, always ready to break and break and break. Bruce was sure he had no other feelings beside anger and destruction. He never thought to sift through the soup of thoughts, letting the loudest be his indicator of the nature of his companion.
> 
> Then he heard the Hulk's laughter. Laughter. Unbidden, mirthful, genuine. From the Hulk. Bruce was reeling. Laughter didn't match with what Bruce had conceived the Hulk to be. Laughter spoke of something like understanding. He was laughing because everyone else was. It was boisterous and childlike, almost bright in the inky darkness of Bruce's mind. It echoed and reverberated through Bruce. He didn't understand why. Then he did.
> 
> Suddenly, it was like a lever was pulled and he was free-falling in his own mind. It was as if his worst suspicions were true. The Hulk wasn't just some fracture of his own anger, he was capable of finding things funny, of learning, of understanding. He spoke with a limited vocabulary and threw tantrums others viewed as petty. He wasn't very emotionally capable, he wasn't very good with expressions of anger. But he was so widely childlike, it was jarring to realize this now of all times. Effectively, Bruce had been working tirelessly since the accident to kill what was essentially a giant, deadly, nine foot tall toddler.
> 
> But not just any toddler. Hulk wasn't your run of the mill toddler, he was a lot like a young Bruce. Sure, Bruce was incredibly bright for his age, but his emotional capacity was stunted. He could vaguely recall tantrums he didn't remember throwing, of something coming over him when his mother was being beaten in front of him. And God... That wasn't him. That was the glaring opposite of model toddler Robert Bruce Banner who was selectively mute outside of the house outside of words like 'thank you' and 'please.' Who had a crippling fear of burning in hell should he speak of the abuse he and his mother suffered.
> 
> No, that was not Bruce.
> 
> That was the Hulk.
> 
> God, the Hulk was always there, always some personality he was never aware of, awoken by situations that enraged him.
> 
> His stomach churned when he realized it was the Hulk who caused him to kick his father that fateful day, sending his head cracking into a gravestone, killing him.
> 
> He nearly vomited when he came to terms with the fact that he was attempting to kill an alter almost as old as he.

——————————————————————

**FIC 3**

**title:** toy 

 **author’s note:** HIGH SCHOOL YOUTUBE AU WITH TRANS GIRL BRUCE!!! ITS ALL SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS with like angst too because why not why no angst okay i’m physically incapable of making something joyful fucking sue me. another look into DID but with like the addition of my fave bruce alter ever: joe fixit! who will affectionately be called joey in this fic. OH! and there’s gonna be like a mini civil war but not really like B A R E L Y and then everything will be relatively fine. will include everyone’s faves including the defenders and some x-men since joe fixit actually hangs out A L O T with logan. oh and the return of the name beverly rose because fuck you that’s MY name for trans girl bruce. and trans boy frank!!! 

also i would love to mention that there’s gonna be race changes in this one so that’s gonna be fun. brucie bear will be black/white/indian, scott will be everyone’s fave cuban from coral gables (since that’s where he’s from in comic) and also nicaraguan cause there’s a lot of nicaraguans in miami now and it makes sense, matt will be japanese, danny will be tibetan, tony will be mexican, and bucky’s gonna be everyone’s fave jewish dude.

 **summary:** The YouTube AU with trans girl Bruce and trans boy Frank that no one ever asked for ever. But I wrote anyway. 

**1,806 words written so far:**

>   
>  Watching her father get towed away felt like the lifting of a crushing weight off her lungs. She sobbed a breath of relief, pressing her fingers to the fading bruise on her arm, breathless with the realization that this would be the last time his hands ever bruised her body. She stared with glassy, tear-filled eyes as the Montgomery County Sheriff's vehicle drove her father away from the house he turned into hell. She let out a shaking, shuddering breath when the car disappeared from view, sliding her eyes shut and letting the tears that gathered there trickle down her cheeks.
> 
> "Son, you doin' okay?" The remaining police officer asked and she nodded, her wrist wiping away the tears that flowed freely from her hazel eyes. She didn't even have the energy to flinch at the word 'son'.
> 
> "Alright, is there anyone you'd like to call? A family member who can take you in?" The officer asked and she nodded again.
> 
> "My aunt Susan... Susan Banner. She lives in New York... and my other aunt Elaine lives up there, too, if Aunt Susan can't take me in," she responded, her eyes averted from the sympathetic gaze of the police officer. She wrapped her hands around her middle, hunching her shoulders, curling in on herself. Echoes of pain arced up her ribs as she squeezed on some fresh and some fading bruises but she couldn't bring herself to care. For the first time in her life she wouldn't have to be plagued by fear.
> 
> "Sounds like a plan, kiddo. How about we get you down to the station so we can call up your aunt and get all the papers sorted?" The officer said with a kindness to his tone that warmed her down to her toes. She wasn't used to anyone speaking with her like that. Not even her mother, though she could see the ache in her eyes when she wasn't able to. It was mind blowing that one man could so succinctly destroy any chance of anyone loving his daughter through the clenching hand of fear and intimidation. Still, she shook at the mention of the station.
> 
> "W-Will he be there? I can't. I can't let him see me. He can't see me," she whined, the buzz of her thoughts going static and fuzzy and bright. Fear and anger pushed against her eyes and she almost felt like her head was going to pop. She didn't register hitting the ground until the scratchy, rough texture of the concrete flooded over her senses like sandpaper on her palms. She scrabbled back until the sun warmed metal of the police cruiser hit her back. Dragging her soles up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and hid her face from view.
> 
> She tried desperately to remind herself to breathe but the massive jumble of panicked, angry thoughts smacked against her skull like pinballs, choking off her ability to do anymore than pant, shoulders heaving and shaking as her nails dug into the sides of her arms. She could vaguely hear the officer questioning her to see if she was truly alright, but the deafening cacophony in her brain hindered her from doing much more than shake her head in dissent, tears burning hot in her eyes as her consciousness began to waver and shake before leaving her completely.
> 
> \--
> 
> Dark.
> 
> Dark but hot?
> 
> Hulk snapped his head up, confused by the dark but hot that surrounded him. He growled in discomfort as the sun irritated his eyes. Anger and fear ran hand in hand in his veins as he popped up from his place on the ground, shoulders low and heaving.
> 
> "Hey there, son? I lost you there for a minute, you doing alright?" A man spoke and Hulk panicked.
> 
> Men always mean. Men always hurt and men always hit.
> 
> As the man extended his hand to Hulk, Hulk stared at it with wild eyes before grabbing the man's wrist and dragging him forward to smack his forehead into the man's nose. Hulk pushed the man away with a kick to the stomach and watched as the disoriented man hit the ground with a groan and a thud, barely able to catch his breath before Hulk was on him again.
> 
> Hulk would make sure man wouldn't hit before he could. Hulk would make sure man couldn't hit ever again.
> 
> Punch after punch after punch, each one hitting somewhere different on the man's body before he had enough sense to stop it.
> 
> Almost all at once, the man seemed to regain his composure grabbing Hulk's wrists and squeezing, jostling Hulk as his legs flailed and ragged screeches broke free from his throat. Before Hulk could even register the movement, his head smacked jarringly onto the ground, one massive hand pressing his ear to the rough surface of the driveway. His wrists were wrenched behind his back and a knee pressed painfully into his spine. Yet Hulk kept thrashing, his knees scraping on the ground beneath him.
> 
> This was a familiar position.
> 
> Hulk didn't like this position.
> 
> Not many things scared Hulk, but this was one thing that scared him the most.
> 
> He whined brokenly, trying to shake off the man sitting on his hips and pinning him down in all the ways Hulk hated.
> 
> Then he heard a voice. A woman. Ms. Fields from across the street. Hulk liked Ms. Fields. Ms. Fields was a sci-ki-uh-tris, as she would say every time Hulk had trouble remembering the word.
> 
> "Ms. Fields," he whimpered weakly, tears burning hot in his eyes.
> 
> "I need you to remove yourself from this child immediately," Ms. Field's said with a bite to her tone that took Hulk by surprise. Ms. Fields was always nice and sweet like pie. Never harsh and angry like the monster.
> 
> "This man assaulted me," the police officer spoke, his tone was angry and then there was the bite of something metal around Hulk's wrists that pinched and squeezed and made him more angry than he was scared.
> 
> "LEAVE ME ALONE!" He roared, his body bucking and growls escaping his throat. The officer's response was to grab the side of his hair and smack the opposite side of his head into the ground, disorienting him one again and sending a headache splitting through his skull.
> 
> "I'll have you know I have this on film and for the record, this 'man' of yours is a 12 year old boy who weighs 80 pounds soaking wet and also suffers from dissociative identity disorder. Who you're assaulting right now is an alter personality with the mental age of a four year old. You are in essence handcuffing a toddler," Ms. Fields explained. "So unless you would like to face charges for endangering a minor, I suggest you remove the handcuffs and try and calm him down."
> 
> There was silence, deafening and roaring in Hulk's ears as he whimpered and choked back tears, his breath wheezing with the weight that crushed his lungs.
> 
> "Ms. Field's," he whimpered again, his voice broken and soft as he looked at her with pleading eyes. Moments later, the pinching around his wrists left and the weight lifted him from his hips. As soon as he was freed, he scrambled to Ms. Fields, clinging to her like a leech, his body shuddering with sobs.
> 
> "Now, can you tell me what you said before Hulk showed up?" He heard Ms. Field's ask and instinctively cursed himself closer to her, practically suffocating himself in the fabric of her shirt.
> 
> "Hulk?" The officer asked, his tone incredulous.
> 
> "This particular alter, the one who attacked you," Ms. Fields explained and Hulk wished he knew what the word alter was. What any of the complicated words she used to explain why Hulk slept for so long or why he was always so angry and scared.
> 
> "I told him we'd be going down to the station to fill out the necessary paperwork to have him sent to his father's sister. That made him panic and then I'm getting beat up by a 12 year old," the officer explained and Hulk whimpered at the mention of the monster.
> 
> "And there you have it. Any situation wherein Bruce fears violence or anger at the hands of his father is an immediate trigger for Hulk. Hulk shows up to protect Bruce. And Hulk is innately distrustful of men seeing as all the violence he's endured has been at the hands of men. He sees it as trying to defend himself. He truly thinks that whenever he shows up it's because there's danger around. There has been times where he's shown up in a safe environment and lashed out because of perceived danger. I'm the only person to try and gain his trust. I don't even think his mother was fully aware of the extent of the damage her husband was causing," Ms. Fields told the officer and Hulk could feel himself drifting against her chest as the rumble of her confusing words washed over him as she stroked his hair. 
> 
> "So, we should find someplace else to sign these forms and contact his Aunt is what you're telling me?" The officer questioned and Hulk could hear Ms. Fields' approving hum. Her fingers carded gently through the coils of his hair and if he were able to purr he would. His eyes fluttered a bit and could feel himself slipping into the cracks of unconsciousness slowly. He always felt tired after being around for long enough.
> 
> "Hulk tired," he murmured and Ms. Fields cooed slightly before gathering him up in her arms. He wrapped his legs around her waist instinctively, pressing his face into her neck and shuddering out a few breaths before drifting off slightly.
> 
> Vaguely he heard Ms. Fields invite the man to her home before finally succumbing to the lull of exhaustion.
> 
> \--
> 
> When Bruce came to she was on a couch, her body aching like a huge bruise, her head bursting with a headache. She groaned as she pushed herself up, rubbing her head. She swung her sore legs down and was met with the sight of bandages wrapped around both her knees. She rubbed her eyes and grimaced, wondering what could possibly have happened between her blackout and this moment.
> 
> Then a hand came down on her shoulder and her vision went blurry with panic, her body going stock still, her heartbeat roaring in her ears.
> 
> “Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry to have startled you,” a familiar voice said and Bruce could feel herself beginning to calm as her chest heaved. She placed her hand on Ms. Fields’ and let out a shaky sigh. A glass of water was placed in front of her and she thanked Ms. Field softly before taking a few sips to try and relieve her headache.

——————————————————————

**FIC 4**

**title:** just

 **author’s note:** nonlinear murder investigation fic set in the same universe as the youtube au because i am incapable of making anything happy. 

 **summary:** He had to. He had to end it. It didn’t matter the consequences. It had to be over and the only way to end it laid at the end of the barrel of a gun. 

**321 words written so far:**

> The hands that run up his sides are enough to make him want to vomit, the gun in his hand is a steady heavy weight and he is so close to whipping around and sending a bullet through the man whose hands drift closer to the waistband of his jeans. But he's afraid. He can hear the barrel tapping against his leg almost inaudibly, the cold metal making soft chinking noises. His eyes are comically wide as his chest heaves, bile rising in his throat as the man's breath tickles along the shell of his ear.
> 
> "See, baby girl, you've got goosebumps. You respond to me, you always have. You owe me everything, everything you know I taught you,” he whispers sleazily into his ear and he shudders with a heave. He chuckles and runs his hands under his hoodie, finding the binder and ‘tsk’ing in disapproval.
> 
> “Oh baby girl, you and your fantasies. You know this isn’t you. I thought maybe you’d learned how much power you could have with this sexy body of yours. I didn’t care that you cut that pretty hair of yours, but this is a little much,” he chided, pulling the hem of the binder up over and over and over until it pressed painfully against the top of his chest, exposing his breasts.
> 
> “That’s my girl. My pretty, beautiful, sexy girl,” the man spoke, removing his hoodie.
> 
> He should’ve known that was a bad idea when the gun in the boy’s right hand became exposed to the open air.
> 
> The man froze and, quick as a whip, the boy spun around a fired a clean shot right between the man’s eyes.
> 
> The boy tugged down his binder, slid on his hoodie, and left the man in the puddle of his own blood as he walked out of the locker room without a shred of remorse coloring his body language.
> 
> Serves a pedophile rapist right.

——————————————————————

**FIC 5**

**title:** skin and bones

 **author’s note:** this one explores frank with matt’s power set and maybe they discover that rand chemicals can give a bitch superpowers amiright? i just wanted some frank whump leaf my ath olone 

 **summary:** Upon his exit from the hospital, Frank doesn't immediately become The Punisher, but begins digging into the necessary information to find and kill the people who murdered his family. Before he's even given the chance to execute his attacks, he's captured. He's not sure how, but the people who take him have less than good intentions.

**2,598 words written so far:**

> Pain.
> 
> Singing through his nerves, lighting everything in him on burning fire.
> 
> Consuming him from the inside out.
> 
> He thinks that after so long he'd forget what it felt like, but it was the only thing that existed in the inky blackness of the place he's hoping won't be his grave. Rats scuffle along the concrete and he hopes his overheated flesh hasn't been mauled to shit by the scraggly little creatures. His skin crawls with the brush of stale air across it and if he pushes past the searing pain he can hear the workers milling about, packing up their tools as they finish their construction for the day on the new tenement that resides just a hairsbreadth from the storage shed he was dragged into. The passage of time is so muddled he isn't quite sure how many days he's been trapped here, but he can glean the difference between day and night by listening to the world outside the four walls that confine him.
> 
> The day is interspersed with the chatter and bustle of the construction workers and people milling about the streets, droves of them speaking in various tones about multiple things. The sound of life is so cloying that it chokes him, leaving him raw and aching, praying someone would hear him over the din and get him free.
> 
> The night is different, just as noisy but for different reasons.The power tools that buzz and whir during the day aren't at all present at night, replaced by screams and sirens and gunshots and the sound of people milling from bar to club to home. He hopes they can hear him sometimes, too. He hopes a drunken man breaks into the shed by accident. He really does hope.
> 
> He would scream for their help, but his voice is raw and useless, completely trashed. He can only whine brokenly through chapped lips and pray. Pray for salvation and never for death. See, he refuses to die. Not here. Not without feeling the bleeding viscera of the men who ruined his life in Central Park and shattered whatever was left however many nights ago. A bullet to the brain couldn't kill him and he wouldn't let this kill him. He tried to strain against the holds, but failed, a frustrated yell ready to rip from his bleeding, abused throat.
> 
> Yet, before he even has the chance to try and call for help just one more time, pain and fever drag him back to a fitful state of restless unconsciousness.
> 
> \--
> 
> Voices.
> 
> He hears voices, muffled and distant and yet so sharp in his fever addled mind that the headache caused by his dehydration intensifies. The stream of fresh winter air entering from the now open shed causes goosebumps to raise over his burning flesh. He hears the voices but he can't understand what they're saying. Delirium washes over him so strong and fierce he has to bite back a dry sob when the words begin to sound like they're coming from his family, from his beautiful Maria, his courageous Lisa, his sweet Frankie. The sound of them, no matter how muffled and unintelligible makes that chest shaking sob come once more and he can do nothing but ride the waves of dry, heaving sobs that jostle his body. He can feel himself slipping further into the hands of unconsciousness and this time he's not so sure he'll make it out.
> 
> Then something splashes over his face and he panics, memories resurfacing, until he feels the coolness of the liquid and the way it relieves the pain of his cracked and bleeding lips. Relief floods him almost instantly, sending his body sagging. God, it's fucking water. It's goddamned water. He tentatively reaches his tongue out to collect the drops that cling to his skin. And then there are fingertips, slightly calloused, tilting his chin up as much as it can go and he can't suppress the full body flinch that wracks him.
> 
> But just as soon as the fingertips appear, they're gone. He feels the lip of a bottle on his bottom lip and a steady stream of water washing over his parched tongue. For a bit, he doesn't even attempt to swallow, he just lets the cool water soak on his dry tongue and trail down his neck. Then he works his throat and swallows the water down, a coppery tinge marring its descent down his throat. His stomach begins to growl obscenely as water begins to fill it and now that he can't feel the crushing grip of thirst any longer, he becomes acutely aware of the debilitating hunger that arcs through his being.
> 
> The bottle is finished and Frank pants, dropping his head, uncaring about the impact it may make on its way down to the concrete.
> 
> Except the thud never comes, at least not as jarring as he expected. There's a bundle of something under his head now. It's soft with use and the kind of material that makes you want to nuzzle it until you fall asleep. The soft texture is heaven on his skin and he realizes how much he missed the comfort of things like a goddamned pillow after resting his head on concrete for so damn long. His body sags heavily but this time it doesn't feel so finite. His breathing feels wet and broken but it's steady. He's staved off death by dehydration, but there's so much more that can take him out.
> 
> But now? Now he's truly convinced of his own safety, truly able to rest.
> 
> So he does, slipping into a finally restful slumber now that he knows he'll wake up free.
> 
> \--
> 
> Just when Frank thought the pain was over, he was violently reminded that no matter what it wouldn't stop. He's jostled from his sleep by the searing, nerve singing pain of the nails that drove his hands into the concrete being removed slowly. Ragged, barely audible screams echo around the storage shed as he thrashes, ungodly pain echoing deep and burning straight down to his very soul. It feels like hours before he can finally feel the nails removed from his hands, shoulder blades, the backs of his knees, and the soles of his feet and shortly after an almost pliant haze washes over him, turning his searing pains into dull, manageable aches.
> 
> The air smells of fresh blood and pungent pus but as he feels his body moving for the first time in ages, he can only sob in relief. They didn't get him. They tried, they tried so goddamned hard but they couldn't kill him. Not in Central Park and not here.
> 
> His sobs dissolve into soft chuckles that turn into breathless laughter. He feels fuzzy as his body is repositioned to a cradling position on his back and his bones scream in protest but it feels muted, like someone shoved cotton onto his nerve endings. Everything was quiet and hazy for the first time in God knows how long and he revels in it, his face stretched into a dopey grin. And then he remembers. He remembers the most important part of his life in that moment and grabs at whoever it is that is closest to the person carrying him out of his prison. His fingers catch on what feels like leather and kevlar and he pulls them closer to him.
> 
> "Don' tell the p'lice... 'cuz when the pe'ple 'spons'ble show up dead, they'll know I did it," he whispers, his voice nothing more than a breathy wheeze. He releases the person he grabbed and lets his hand go limp before passing out once again.
> 
> \--
> 
> Jessica is supporting Danny as his glowing fist lays on top of the man in the shed's chest. It shakes violently and Danny nearly screams with the effort of healing as much as he can within the man while Luke carries him.
> 
> "Danny, I think that's enough," Matt warns and Danny grunts, shaking his head.
> 
> "Not... Not done..." He grits out, his teeth clenched so tightly Matt can hear them grinding together.
> 
> "He's too badly injured for you to heal everything without killing yourself, let it go. His internal injuries are cleared. You just healed toxic shock syndrome, MRSA, six different bacterial infections, two broken shoulder blades, a punctured lung, failing organs, and a fever of 105. Let it go," Matt warns and Danny grunts one last time before pulling his fist away. He gasps as he collapses and Jessica hefts him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes before he can hit the pavement and keeps moving. She turns her head to look at Matt before speaking.
> 
> "Call Claire. She can set some bones, right? Oh, and tell her not to forget a rape kit."
> 
> \--
> 
> When Frank wakes again he is cool and he can breathe deeply for the first time in forever. He can feel a needle in his arm and he feels more like he's in a barbers chair than a bed or gurney. No bed and no gurney means he's not in a hospital. That earns a sigh of relief he had no idea he was holding.
> 
> "Hey there," he hears. The voice sounds warm and feminine and it follows with something cool and sticky pouring over his arm. Her breath blows down on the uncovered parts of his arm and the fact that he can't feel any of his hairs moving tells him she shaved his arm to avoid pulling hairs when the cast would have to be inevitably removed.
> 
> He can only grunt in response, his throat a shredded mess. He senses another presence flanking his left side and he can already tell it's a man. Burly and huge and too warm to be normal.
> 
> "That bad, huh?" She jokes and he can't do anything but hold back the dry sob that envelopes his chest as he feels the burly man's hand settle in the vicinity of his left knee.
> 
> "Hey, it's okay, I'm just gonna reset the bone here so it doesn't heal wrong. I won't touch you for longer than you want me to," he speaks and blind panic overwhelms him, freezing his limbs in place. He can only whimper as the broken bones in his knee and foot are shifted, another male voice giving approving hums when the bone is set where it needs to be. The sound is grating but he can't help but notice when the fractures aline.
> 
> The rest of the plastering is spent in silence until someone on the far right of the room, no, the other room, nearer to the back exit, turns to whisper to someone next to him.
> 
> "He's scared," the man mutters and Frank has half a mind to scoff if he wasn't actually scared. "It stinks worse than whatever lingering infection he's got going on."
> 
> "Stop talking about me," he whispers hoarsely. His chest clenches with anxiety but he keeps his chin up. If he wasn't heard, he wasn't heard. If he was, he prepares himself for what is to come.
> 
> "He heard me? Daniel, he heard me," the man speaks and Frank's heart rate ratchets. "Holy shit, Danny, he's terrified. Fuck, I think he's hearing us right now. I'm gonna go talk to him."
> 
> "Do you think that's such a good idea, Matt? I mean Claire still hasn't even asked..." The one presumably named Danny peters off.
> 
> "If he's anything like me, he's gonna hate every second of what Claire needs to do," the one Frank assumes is Matt responds and Frank doesn't like his words. They make a chill appear over his skin.
> 
> And then there's the sounds of footsteps and a slightly rapid heartbeat coming closer and Frank can't help but bite his own lip.
> 
> "Hey, I'm Matt," is the first thing that comes out of Matt's mouth. Frank wants to facepalm but he can't since both his hands are broken and setting in the plaster.
> 
> "I know," Frank whispers back hoarsely.
> 
> "I'm assuming you heard me whisper from all the way over there, right?" Matt questions and Frank shrugs.
> 
> "They did something to your eyes, didn't they?" Matt pushes and Frank huffs out a sharp breath. He doesn't like the way this conversation is going.
> 
> He nods anyway.
> 
> "What'd they do?" Matt asks and Frank wants to cry, tears springing to his eyes. It's too fresh. He doesn't want to say anything. They can't make him say anything. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. He's not telling these monsters anything. He'll sooner shoot himself.
> 
> _But then they make him._
> 
> _They grab him by the jaw and he growls, thrashing._
> 
> _They can't do shit to him in this fucking chair and they goddamn well know if. He's gonna break free and he's gonna make sure the last thing they see is his goddamned face before he slaughters them all mercilessly. They won't get a lick of information from him._
> 
> _"Boss," some ugly, pug-faced piece of shit with an Irish accent calls out and the disgusting fuck holding his jaw hums, still looking dead in Frank's eyes. His eyes are a pond water green that makes Frank think too much of the lake in the park he grew up near._
> 
> _"They have the stuff," the pug continues and the Boss smiles a smile that puts a shark to shame, vicious and purely carnivorous._
> 
> _"Bring it here," The Boss says and despite himself, Frank feels a spark of fear. The Boss is staring at his eyes but not in them, like he's contemplating doing something to his eyes. Call it a premonition, but Frank knew something was going to happen._
> 
> _He keeps his mouth firmly shut anyway._
> 
> _"Oh, Mr. Castle, you've done it this time. How surprised were we to find the beginnings of a sniper nest right across from our humble abode. All that time in a coma made you messy, amateur, juvenile. But it's okay, you won't ever have to worry about being a good sniper again, that I can assure you," he speaks and Frank can feel his insides going to ice._
> 
> _The last thing he sees is the predatory smile of the Boss before chemicals splash into his eyes over and over again._
> 
> \--
> 
> "Matt, what the fuck did you do?!" Claire yells and Matt is floored, he can't figure out what happened. One minute the man is with them, present in reality, and the next? Oh, the next he's shaking like a leaf, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he gapes and gasps. His fingers twitch in the near hardened plaster and tears well up in eyes that refuse to dilate despite being lamplit near directly.
> 
> "Matthew Murdock, what did you tell him?!" Claire asks once more, frantically searching for a sedative in the kit she begged Delia to put together for her on a pit stop to Metro-General after Matt's frantic call about the man sitting on the barber chair in Pop's having a panic attack.
> 
> She finds it quickly and shoves the needle into the IV port and slams the plunger, holding it there with shaking hands until he stills, eyes slipping shut.
> 
> "I... I asked him what they did to his eyes... He has my senses, I needed to know," Matt says and Jessica audibly groans.
> 
> "Yes, Matthew, ask someone fresh off of a trauma what was done to them. That makes absolute perfect sense, don't you think?" Jessica snaps and Matt recoils only slightly at the biting tone in her words.
> 
> "I didn't think--"
> 
> "Exactly, you didn't THINK," Jessica cuts him off.


	2. spitballing ideas i have but haven’t written

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some more ideas i have that i haven’t written for yet but am excited to do so

**BRAINSTORM**

a dance studio au, since we don’t already have millions of those. but i want to focus more on competitive team than the studio itself. since my niece made it on to team i’ve been to a bunch of competitions and they’re brutal and stressful and amazing fic fodder. i also learned there’s no limit to what you can do at a dance competition. the dance can be as long as you want with as many dancers and props as you want so i wanna play around with that. idk fam this fic will be probably centered around the main avengers group but it’ll definitely have a bunch of other characters in it. 

* * *

i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s 100% crack treated seriously. like 10000000%. so here it is. reed richards contacts the avengers because one of many alternate universes has created a device capable of wiping other universes out of existence. the goal is for their universe to be the only universe left, eliminating any and all threats to their world. in this universe, hydra won and decided to collect assets. 

they already had the winter soldier, so their next target was steve rogers who was still trapped under the ice but for much less time, having been retrieved around the 50s by hydra agents and turned into the summer soldier. he wasn’t an easy nut to crack, however, and hydra responded to that by degrading steve down to his bases of senses by corroding the higher functioning parts of his brain and installing electrical nodes that would fry his brain whenever it noticed any healing attempt. this left steve nothing more than an animal who recognized an alpha and nothing more.

later, the spring soldier is created after the winter soldier brings russian red room trainee natasha romanov into the picture. her training is completed by the winter soldier as well as her programming into the spring soldier. she was the easiest to transition because she had already been trained to be loyal to the russians so the germans weren’t all that big of a switch.

their next and final asset aquistion comes from general thaddeus ross himself, who has pledged allegiance to hydra in this universe. it comes in the form a beast so destructive and powerful it makes hydra salivate. they know that the beast must always stay present but they also know that he cannot be contained while full sized. so they force the genius behind the beast to create a device to keep the beast present and strong while still in the body of bruce banner. the device and procedure are painful and require the same electrical nodes as steve rendering the genius behind the beast useless, but they are successful, leaving hydra with the autumn soldier. 

the avengers of our universe are sent in by reed to stop the destruction of other universes and they do. but fuckin bleeding heart liberal captain america decides they have to bring the soldiers to their universe and recuperate them because they never made the choice to be this way and they don’t deserve to die monsters and blah blah blah. and so they’re brought into our universe, their universe is destroyed and now our avengers have to deal with four fucked up hydra assets who probably kill children without even blinking all because of steve rogers.

it starts of angsty then there’s some action fighting shit then there’s some more angst and then there’s fun. in the form of the summer soldier literally biting someone for touching him because he’s like barely more than an animal at this point. idk fam i just wanna write this for some ungodly reason don’t @ me.

* * *

avengers/justice league crossover because my brain is a shit and wants me to write diana and steve hanging out and bruce and tony being multimillionaires together except tony is a shit and bruce is not a shit and barry shooting the shit with peter since they’re both hyper active fanboys and i want thor and aquaman to have an arm wrestling contest and just let me fucking live. i want an avengers/justice league friendship fic. don’t know what the plot will be but it’ll be fun. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more shitty shit for y’all to tell me if y’all wanna see or some shit idk.


	3. more brainstorming yay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me brainstorming some more shit hey tell me what i should finish as always

children of the avengers!!! this one i’ve actually got pairings for you. so this one is trans!steve/sam, trans!t’challa/bucky, tony/rhodey, clint/natasha (ignores his age of ultron character completely because everyone knows in the comics clint is a walking disaster with trust attachment and family issues so like what the fuck), pepper/happy, bruce/thor (because that ship is gonna blow the fuck up after ragnarok i can FEEL IT in my BONES), and wanda/viz. 

as for the kids, steve and t’challa obviously have the kids biologically because they’re trans and i’m not pulling no magical mpreg bullshit because this is literally something that can happen in real life. bruce and thor have a child that is theirs biologically thru the power of asgardian magic (not mpreg tho like i just said). tony and rhodey turn to pep for surrogacy. clint and tasha have their own kid. viz and wanda adopt a kid from the same place that turned jessica and luke into inhumans.

as for the story, it’s gonna take place when the kids are around high school age. they aren’t avengers nor are they avengers in training, they’re a bunch of kids with abilities but no place to use them until their parents get kidnapped by villain group of the week and they have to save them.

theres seriayah grace wilson-rogers (looks like jada sabrina), khalid aiden udaku (looks like reece king), tyra rebecca odinson (looks like sabrina carpenter), gabby marie stark-rhodes (looks like a young lauryn hill), nathan pietro barton (looks like lucky blue smith), and jordan peter maximoff (looks like mitch grassi). i have this well thought out clearly. 

seriayah is pretty much a super soldier as is khalid who has wakandan training since he is to take up the mantle of black panther. tyra is a powerhouse fighter with the strength of both her parents and while she’s not as smart as bruce she’s no slouch either. gabby is a weapons expert with the brain of a stark and the coolheadedness of a potts. nathan is a snarky loudmouth with killer aim. jordan is a quiet reserved kid with telekinesis given to him by the scientists who had him. 

their journey takes them thru some crazy twists and turns and they find out what it really means to be family and friends. it’s gonna be heartwarming i swear.

* * *

 

a character piece that seeks to explain why steve did what he did in the civil war and why tony did what he did. doesn’t choose sides or demonize either party, simply lays out the motivations and what happened as a result - good or bad - of those motivations. i’m gonna put this here because i’ve never seen a fic like this (nor have i seen a tony bashing fic) and ive seen plenty of “steve is an abusive asshole” “not steve friendly” “team cap are dicks” fics and it’s kind of annoying how one sided this fandom is when it comes to tony stark. i got in a deadass argument about this fic that just gutted all these really complex and compelling characters in order to make them tony worshipping steve haters.

needless to say i was pretty peeved because it turned everyone into a one dimensional version of themselves in order to make tony the most important character and i want to make a fic that amplifies the fact that these are all characters that can be fleshed out beautifully without forsaking any relationships they may have built. i was also extra mad because they made bruce team iron man which is completely fucked pero that’s not the only thing that made me mad whatever whatever i do what i want. 

but yeah it’ll definitely be angsty and super sad but it’ll hopefully give y’all insight into these characters and their motivations and whatnot. if it bashes anyone it’s 100% a general ross bashing fic like i will put that in caps bold underline and italics. fuck general ross honestly.

* * *

group chat fic. that’s it. there’s nothing else i can say but group chat fic.

* * *

a fic where all the avengers are strangers who are admitted under the baker act on the same day at the same hospital for different reasons. this one is gonna be a lot more visceral since i have personal experience with the psych ward of two different hospitals and let me tell you, there’s not a reason in the world y’all should be writing about these places as if there’s anything fun abt them. they’re miserable. the attendees and security laugh at mentally ill patients, there was a guy detoxing on the floor since they were out of beds, there was a guy in ripped up paper scrubs he’d been in for days that they never changed. they talked to all of us as if we were liars and lower than them. the chairs were hard, i was cold and miserable, they didn’t even have the decency to turn off the lights so we could sleep properly. you couldn’t touch the phone without permission from the doctor and they watched us all like animals from a one way glass room. it wasn’t fun. it was miserable and humiliating. i cried the whole time i was there. 

so this fic would be more of me working through that experience and trying to find a way to make it brighter using my favorite characters. idk it was months ago but i definitely still have my issues with it. whatever whatever i do what i want.


	4. more shit yay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nothing to see here but some more shit

holy shit a skullgirls au like how has no one ever thought about that. here’s the breakdown y’all 

brain drain is obviously alexander pierce, valentine is brock rumlow, which makes bucky barnes painwheel.

for those who don’t know: brain drain is a doctor who makes weapons against the skullgirl (who appears every 7 years when a corrupted woman gets her hands on the skull heart and makes a wish and is incredibly hard to kill) no matter what the cost is to another human life. 

valentine is his trusted nurse who helps him do whatever it is he needs to have done in order to fight the skullgirl. this includes finding subjects to experiment on.

painwheel was a once happy girl who was taken by valentine and brain drain and experimented on so heavily she’s half parasite (main source of “super powers” in this game). in the game she is under mind control by brain drain and valentine until she breaks out of it and fights back against them. her story parallels almost directly with bucky’s.

peter would absolutely be filia. filia is the daughter of one of the main crime heads in new meridian until one night her hair gets taken over by a sentient parasite named samson who has a lot of bug related puns related to his move set (bug off! and metamorphosis! to name a couple). she gets total amnesia and becomes this friendly super sweet innocent naive girl who gets help fighting from her parasite. i love the idea of peter being like filia wherein he doesn’t want to fight but his parasite gives him the ability to and therefore he feels like he has to. 

steve rogers is 100% no holds barred peacock. she talks like an old new yorker loves slapstick is super optimistic and is a real sassy bitch who won’t ever turn down a fight. sounds like someone we know right? i love her so much. her story is that she used to be an orphan and her and her best friend marie got pulled into a slave trade. she was waaaay too defiant and they make a lesson out of her by gouging out her eyes and cutting off her arms. dr avian (in our case dr. erksine) takes her to the anti-skullgirl labs, retro fits her with new arms with enough eyes to see everything at once and wicked sharp teeth. id love pre serum steve for this role because it fits so perfectly. 

natasha would be parasoul renoir leader of the black egrets and protector of new meridian. she’s wise but she’s firm and she’s completely fair in all her dealings. she’s also incredibly regal and awesome. she’s also super cunning and smart but also caring and kind, never overlooking the suffering of people in her kingdom and always vowing to rid the kingdom of evil doers. she’s honestly natasha with a different name. 

clint would be cerebella, a jaunty circus performer with some showstopping abilities. there’s no archer in this game that i know of but god if cerebella doesn’t fit the clint barton bill. she aims to please and she’s loves being a performer in her own right. she’s energetic, she’s spunky, and she never backs down. clint and cerebella are - no pun intended - brain twins down to the circus performance and personalities. she’s also incredibly loyal to the people who have helped her almost to the point of blindness. she was orphaned at a young age, and was brought in by the medici family so she loves them because they saved her and is willing to look past their more... shady aspects.

thor and beowulf are absolutely the best match. beowulf is a retired professional wrestler who joined the fight against the skullgirl when he became too restless to sit back and not fight anymore. he’s hot blooded and a warrior in his own right. he falls out of the graces of the public after living a life of excess and haughtiness only to return to them as a hero. i love both thor and beowulf so like... this is a Good Time.

tony is the undead head throwing ms fortune. a wisecracker with a heart of gold and a mean streak against those who attack the ones she loves, ms fortune is a force to be reckoned with. she’s agile, punny, a troublemaker, and an innovator. she swallowed and digested a life gem that gave her immortality that exists even when she’s dismembered, so she often time uses her actual head as a weapon in battle. she’s the fuckin best man.

finally, comes bruce. this was a difficult choose because i love the idea of bruce filling the role of double but the problem is that double is aligned with the will of the skull heart. id have to change her up a lil bit to make bruce fit as an avenger. double is a shape shifting monster who is currently posing as a nun named sister agatha. she’s usually stoic and hard to read but is prone to fits of pure unadulterated rage.

ill find more places to fit certain characters but deadass this is gonna be so damn fun if i write it.

**Author's Note:**

> this is all shit just let me know what shit you wanna see first.


End file.
